


Breadgiver

by Ancalimë (Cymbidia)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baking, Breadmaking, Elvish Gender Roles, Female-Centric, Food, Funky Elvish Food Magic, Gen, Lembas (Tolkien), Secret Elven Rituals, The Secret Female Rituals of the elves is just knowing how to make good hardtack i guess, Traditions, Valinor, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cymbidia/pseuds/Ancalim%C3%AB
Summary: Nerdanel learns to bake from her mother as a child. She learns how to make waybread from Indis as a bride-to-be. There are certain things which must pass on from generation to generation, from mother to daughter, or, as the case may be, from the first ever step-mother to the first ever step-daughter-in-law in the history of the world.'This food the Eldar alone knew how to make. It was made for the comfort of those who had need to go upon a long journey in the wild, or of the hurt whose life was in peril. Only these were permitted to use it...Since it came from Yavanna, the queen, or the highest among the elven-women of any people, great or small, had the keeping and gift of the lembas, for which reason she was called massánie or besain: the Lady, or breadgiver.'





	Breadgiver

* * *

_'This food the Eldar alone knew how to make. It was made for the comfort of those who had need to go upon a long journey in the wild, or of the hurt whose life was in peril. Only these were permitted to use it. The Eldar did not give it to Men, save only to a few whom they loved, if they were in great need. The Eldar say that they first received this food from the Valar in the beginning of their days in the Great Journey. For it was made of a kind of corn which Yavanna brought forth in the fields of Aman, and some she sent to them by the hand of Oromë for their succour upon the long march. Since it came from Yavanna, the queen, or the highest among the elven-women of any people, great or small, had the keeping and gift of the lembas, for which reason she was called massánie or besain: the Lady, or breadgiver. Now this corn had in it the strong life of Aman, which it could impart to those who had the need and right to use the bread....From the ear to the wafer none were permitted to handle this grain, save those elven-women who were called Yavannildi, the maidens of Yavanna; and the art of the making of the lembas, which they learned of the Valar, was a secret among them, and so ever has remained.'_

_-'Of Lembas'_

* * *

Traditionally, the menfolk of the Eldar were not permitted to bake bread. This was true for most kind of bread, but especially so for the kind of way bread called _coimas_ , considered a sacred gift from Lady Yavanna unto the Eldar. Exceptions for extenuating circumstances had existed, back in the dark days of the Great Journey, but it became a nearly universal norm in golden Valinor. Men cooked and women baked. The queens of the Eldar had especial mastery, weaving thought and magic into the most integral and often consumed part of any meal. Day in, day out, the power of the bakers wove itself into the kitchen and all that they fed. To breathe life back into a hunk of starter or a handful of dried yeast; to sing songs of growth and nourishment as the bread rose. To craft the form and function of each loaf with only one’s thought and one’s clever hands. And then, to send the risen dough into the hot ovens, where the yeast cultures that one had teased back to life and sung into flourishing would be obliterated by the heat and be transformed into the enchantments of strength and power that gave the bread its form as much as the dough did. It was surprisingly barbaric work, when Nerdanel thought about it.

The recipe for making the waybread called _coimas_ , life bread, was not restricted forbidden, but in Aman where it was seldom needed only the Yavannildi thought of it, for the sake of tradition, and outside of those maidens of Yavanna only the Queens and the ladies of the great houses that could be called bread-giver were ever permitted to learn the method. The generic waybread, called _lerembas_ , was a staple with travellers who roamed outside the settlements of the Elves, but that special variety called _coimas_ could fill up an adult with a bite and sustain a hard day’s work on a single wafer. More importantly, it possessed healing properties that were difficult to imbue and seldom needed, in Valinor where no fear or sorrow could touch. The Yavanneldi made increasingly sublime version in pursuit of their Arts, but none ever needed it.

Nerdanel had learnt breadmaking at her mother’s side, of course, beginning with the mud and the earth in a reserved patch of the kitchen yard. Her mother’s meticulous instructions as Nerdanel shaped her instrument of power, and the cheerful pastel yellow paint Nerdanel had brushed onto the door of the earthen oven. The first firing, the touch of hot coals in her hand as Mother taught her how to feel for the right temperature. Her first loaf, made with Mother’s help, coming out magically perfect. The second, entirely her own, failing to rise.

Few used earthen ovens so rudimentary in Valinor, but to show that you could construct and use such a thing was a rite of passage. Nerdanel had not enjoyed the making of the earthen oven, rudimentary as it was compared to Mother’s grand kitchen full of exquisitely wrought tools, but she had been excited to make it all the same, for it marked her as an adult. A grown woman with mastery over herself, able to exert her will in one of the fundamental ways of the Quendi upon the world.

 *

She learnt to make coimas later.

Míriel departed long before Nerdanel’s betrothal, and it had fallen to Indis to instruct her. Lovely, unsmiling Indis. Her face was a stony, carven mask like polished jade, soft and lovely to look upon. Like jade, she was also stony and hard despite all appearances of glossy translucency. Indis was kin to Ingwë, but it was clear she was made to be amongst the Noldor, who themselves were likewise creatures of earth and stone. But unlike the Noldor, no molten liquid core existed inside Indis. She was brittle and hollow like blown glass. Not vacant, not _vapid_ : she just contained a diaphanous and celestial soul made of gases and vapours, barely contained in her shell. It was a very Vanyarin way of living, with her spirit floating somewhere by the peak of Taniquetil, and very unlike the Noldor who lived with the unending awareness of their feet rooted to the ground. The end result was that Indis was rather like something a Noldo might have created, when asked to make a facsimile of the platonically ideal Vanya.

Indis had a separate kitchen for her bread making, as many of the high ladies did, a large kitchen that could hold a great number of aids and helpers. She also had a small, private workspace that she never allowed anyone else but her daughters to touch. Indis lead Nerdanel to neither of these places. Instead, she guided Nerdanel forth to an abandoned wing of the house. It appeared entirely untouched by emptiness and time. The enchantments in the long abandoned kitchen had not so much as wavered, and every surface gleamed perfectly clean.

“This is where I learned to make _coimas_ ,” Indis said, ostensibly looking at Nerdanel but really staring past her and into some unknown dimension. “We royal women are not counted among the Yavannildi who have unfettered permission to make _coimas_ , and we do not learn from them. Therefore, the role of instructor usually falls to either the mother or the mother-in-law, but as you know, I have neither. So it fell to someone else. Sweet Míriel could not be here in person, of course, but she came to me in dreams, and Lord Irmo can occasionally play a faithful messenger when the need arises. I suppose I could have asked for lessons elsewhere, from the Yavannildi or from the lady who first gave the gift, or elsewise from my sister-in-law or Eärwen of the Teleri. But we Noldor have our own way of doing things, and we have our own way of making bread.” Indis was not exactly a traditionalist, which made that observation somewhat surprising. Nerdanel listened to her carefully, more enraptured by Indis’ familiarity with this long untouched space than she was by her business-like lecture.

Indis sighed, just a simple huff of her sweet breath, but the sterile kitchen seemed to relax and come back to life. There was a presence here that had been slumbering, now awakening again. “Míriel,” Nerdanel said in sudden understanding.

“Yes, this was Míriel’s kitchen,” said Indis. “But never mind my wife; you are here for a lesson. Attend. The fact of the matter is simple. You must imbue the waybread not only with mastery or power, but also with the knowledge of comfort and satiation. It must invite those that consume it to partake in your power for so long as the _coimas_ sustains them. You will be as a lens in shaping the life in the corn and Lady Yavanna’s blessings. The corn gives the waybread the necessary nutrition, but without your workings there is no satisfaction and little comfort from taking a single bite of plain bread, no matter how nutritious it might be. Your understanding of comfort and strength is the key ingredient. That is the real secret, of course, and why in the days of the Journey it was in the keeping of only the highest of the women, and why the duty of making it falls to the queens and noble ladies as well as those maidens of Yavanna who more rightly claim the gift. To imbue the bread with such fortitude and vitality when you yourself might not have any to spare, that was how our foremothers made it. It is largely obsolete now, and I keep the bread and give it only in a ceremonial capacity, for what traveller in these untroubled lands need such a thing? The gift of _coimas_ came to us in Middle-Earth where we needed it most. We the Amaneldi keep it only in remembrance.”

Nerdanel learned much that day, discarding the exacting measuring devices and the delicately calculated ratios her mother had taught her, learning instead to create by feel and touch, the way she approached her other Arts. It did not matter how sticky or supple the dough, how far it would rise or not rise, so long as it all served her purpose and existed according to her will. Nerdanel discarded her mother’s insistence on the platonic ideal. There was an element of power, of control, of _mastery,_ but ultimately it was a heightened form of what she had already known to do. To nourish her and hers, to make a piece of her spirit double and rise, so that it could work her purposes and sustain that which she wished to be sustained, ever and eternally.

*

When she could make the _coimas_ to Indis’ satisfaction, Nerdanel was wed to Fëanor and became a princess.

Nerdanel had no daughters. She had seven sons, of course, but she had some insight of her fate, and knew that she would have no more children. No daughters to pass down her life’s work of sculpture, no daughters to pass down the secret of life bread. No daughters to look to her as her sons looked to Fëanor. But -- she did have seven sons. There were always extenuating circumstances, after all. She had no reason to think so, but she suspected that it would be needed again one day.

“Maitimo,” Nerdanel said one fine morning when Laurelin waxed glorious, “collect your brothers and meet me in my kitchen, please.”


End file.
